


Voices and Exceptions

by joycestick



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Gen, Psychological Horror, Restarting the Game, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13986843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joycestick/pseuds/joycestick
Summary: Yuri can still hear herself after the fact.This fanfiction is not suitable for children or those who are easily spoiled.





	1. A Slice of Life

**Author's Note:**

> This contains spoilers, obviously, in case you weren't paying attention. If you're here for some reason other than DDLC... just go play DDLC. It's free. Go enjoy sweet freedom.
> 
> (p.s. if DDLC triggered you, this fic might too. Seriously, please go familiarize yourself with the game and its content before reading if you haven't already.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell it's been a while since I published anything. I've been writing... a lot... but none of it feels quite right. When I have something I'm satisfied with, I'll post it.
> 
> Anyway, I played DDLC last month and it was great, so I tried writing something about Yuri, and this is what happened. I may write future chapters if people want them.

It was a truly peculiar event.

My punctured heart had ceased beating, my veins devoid of blood, my eyes having lost all light. Yet still my consciousness remained. My vision had become faded and gray. My voice was gone, but nevertheless, I spoke to him.

_ I was wrong, _ I had said, over and over and over.  _ I was wrong… I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what I was thinking… I would never do this to you. _

But he didn’t seem to care. His face was surprisingly empty, never blinking, never moving. Stagnant, cold. It was as if he didn’t belong in this world. I didn’t recognize him.

Not to mention, I no longer recognized myself. I didn’t know what I was. What I had become. The personality I’d thought I had… no, it didn’t stop there. My sense of existence, presence, my whole self, all warped into a crude, perverse and selfish creature, acting in the interest of one simple, singular desire. Me, the most relaxed and rational person I knew, wholly consumed by an irrational, demented love.

Or rather, I’ve always tried to think of myself as a relaxed and rational person. At least I tried to portray this image to others. That’s why I concealed my arms. To protect others from the horrors of my injuries. Keep my unconventional pastime away from prying eyes, so everyone else could feel safe. So I would be seen as trustworthy— not dangerous, or harmful, or… suicidal.

But one shouldn’t misunderstand. Perhaps I am dangerous, but I’m  _ not _ suicidal. I don’t inflict pain upon myself because I feel like something is missing from my life. I genuinely derive pleasure from it. If I didn’t engage in it, something  _ would _ be missing from my life. Alongside my writing, cutting myself has always been my means of escape. Not much unlike any other hobby that a “sane” person might use to cope.

I know I shouldn’t. That it’s somehow wrong. That it’s not good for me. But couldn’t one say the same of smoking, or drinking? I wouldn’t imagine that most who indulge in such substances do so with the intention of hurting or killing themselves, and yet they do it nonetheless. An urge that they feel they must satisfy. I’m the same! Why should I have to hide my own urges? Why is it so wrong?

I don’t have a problem. I don’t! I don’t understand why I fatally stabbed myself. It wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been me. I’m not that person. I would never let myself go that far. I’m not depressed! I’m not like Sayori!

Who is… Sayori… ÝĴ·Óźā©ĜŪų!#?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

An exception has occurred.

File “sayori.chr” not found

* * *

It was a truly peculiar event.

My punctured heart had ceased beating, my veins devoid of blood, my eyes having lost all light. Yet still my consciousness remained. My vision had become faded and gray. My voice was gone, but nevertheless, I spoke to him.

_ I was wrong, _ I had said, over and over and over.  _ I was wrong… I didn’t mean to… I don’t know what I was thinking… I would never do this to you. _

But he didn’t seem to care. His face was surprisingly empty, never blinking, never moving. Stagnant, cold. It was as if he didn’t belong in this world. I didn’t recognize him.

Not to mention, I no longer recognized myself. I didn’t know what I was. What I had become. The personality I’d thought I had… no, it didn’t stop there. My sense of existence, presence, my whole self, all warped into a crude, perverse and selfish creature, acting in the interest of one simple, singular desire. Me, the most relaxed and rational person I knew, wholly consumed by an irrational, demented love.

Or rather, I’ve always tried to think of myself as a relaxed and rational person. At least I tried to portray this image to others. That’s why I concealed my arms. To protect others from the horrors of my injuries. Keep my unconventional pastime away from prying eyes, so everyone else could feel safe. So I would be seen as trustworthy— not dangerous, or harmful, or… suicidal.

But one shouldn’t misunderstand. Perhaps I am dangerous, but I’m  _ not _ suicidal. I don’t inflict pain upon myself because I feel like something is missing from my life. I genuinely derive pleasure from it. If I didn’t engage in it, something  _ would _ be missing from my life. Alongside my writing, cutting myself has always been my means of escape. Not much unlike any other hobby that a “sane” person might use to cope.

I know I shouldn’t. That it’s somehow wrong. That it’s not good for me. But couldn’t one say the same of smoking, or drinking? I wouldn’t imagine that most who indulge in such substances do so with the intention of hurting or killing themselves, and yet they do it nonetheless. An urge that they feel they must satisfy. I’m the same! Why should I have to hide my own urges? Why is it so wrong?

I don’t have a problem. I don’t! I don’t understand why I fatally stabbed myself. It wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been me. I’m not that person. I would never let myself go that far. I’m not depressed! I’m not like

ĚŨă¼ß½ŏżžñŵÛśáaaa—

An exception has occurred.

* * *

I’m not like others who have succumbed to suicide!

But. Come to think of it… I believe I was commenting on the presence of my voice. Yet, I don’t even remember what this voice sounded like. Had I even had a voice in the first place? I couldn’t be certain…

No, no, no. It was a useless thought, with no attainable answer. I didn’t care if I’d ever had a voice. If I’d existed. I think, therefore I am, correct? Even if I wasn’t real, I was nonetheless. Though I actually don’t care to entertain such heavy questions. I’ve never had any reason to ask them.

Conspiracy theories. God, existence, the universe. Sure, there might be some greater power out there, but why is it relevant? Such matters are distracting, frivolous. As far as we’re concerned right here and now, only ideas that exist to rule one’s way of life.

Until God appears in our world, and demonstrates his powers, unwinds the workings of reality for us, I simply can’t be bothered. I have my own life to worry about. My feelings, my friends. My knives, and my pain. My poems, and the Literature Club.

That’s where I’ve always stood on the mysteries of the universe. At least, until I—

Wait a moment.

How many times have I repeated myself to you?

What on Earth have I been  _ saying? _

* * *

“Alright, it’s festival time!” Natsuki announces bouncily, as she dashes inside the room.

I can barely see her. Everything around me is gray.

Please. Stop. I can’t… why can’t I die?

_ Why? Why am I still conscious?!!!! Please… please stop… stop torturing me… _

_ LET ME DIE ALREADY!!! _

Natsuki says something that I can’t quite discern amidst the chaos in my mind. For a moment, I feel as if I can’t hear… can’t read the scene.

And then she sees me.

“Natsuki…?” I attempt to lift my hand towards her face, but it’s hopeless. I’m immobilized, blood having dried upon my body, like aging frosting on an old cake. I can’t even feel my fingers.

“Natsuki?” I say again, cautiously. “Are you… can you help me out of—”

“EYAAH!!!!”

She doesn’t seem to have heard me. After screaming some more, gagging… she vomits…

The next thing I know, she’s gone.

“Natsuki…?!”

“I’m here!”

Monika looks at him pleasantly. But upon seeing his face… now, she’s curious. Concerned. I’m not certain why. His face looks the same as it always has.

What’s happening here? What am I missing? What can Monika see that I cannot?

“…Did something happen? Natsuki just ran past me…”

Her eyes turn to me. Or… my corpse. I don’t know what I am. I still can’t follow what’s happening.

“Oh… oh… oh.” Monika shakes her head, then emits a hearty laugh. “Well, that’s a shame. Wait…” She focuses on him again, tremendous concern laced across her face. “Were you here the entire weekend? Oh, jeez…” She shakes her head, evidently disappointed. “I didn’t realize the script was broken that badly.”

_ The script? _

Is she saying that this was scripted? That there was a plan, for all of this, that she knew of, somehow? A machination of which I had been a part?

“I’m super sorry! It must have been pretty boring…” Monika smiles apologetically at him. “I’ll make it up to you, okay? Just gimme a sec…”

Above Monika, I see a small gray box. It looks like… what? A computer’s command console? In this classroom?

This shouldn’t fit here… it doesn’t belong here… it’s… two-dimensional…

And yet it seems to fit right at home in the corner.

> os.remove(“characters/yuri.chr”)   


Am I…

I…

I try to redirect my vision towards my arms, but can only get a small glimpse of my shoes, stained with my blood. They always looked real to me before, but now they look more like a painting of shoes. And they’re fading… fading…   


I try to take a look at the strange console again. It acts, without any appearance of physical influence from Monika… who stands, perfectly stationary. Not even blinking.

> _

yuri.chr deleted successfully

_ Deleted…?! _

I can’t wrap my head around what’s happened. Am I being… erased? By Monika? Why?

> _

natsuki.chr deleted successfully

_ And… Natsuki, too? Why? Why is this happening?! _

“I’m almost done,” Monika says cheerily, not taking any notice of my continuing vanishment. “I just want to have a cupcake real quick!”

“Monika?” I ask weakly, as I fruitlessly attempt to verify what I have just witnessed. “Are you… God?”

* * *

“Huh,” Natsuki remarks, bemused by his appearance. “So you’re that boy Sayori’s talking about?”

“T-Thank you for stopping by!” I say pleasantly, smiling and nodding at him as I discreetly conceal the fresh wound on my right arm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. We’re the Literature Club. I-I hope you enjoy your visit.”

I try my best to not set off any red flags. I don’t want to be judged for what I do to myself. What I enjoy. My feelings.

This boy. He’s… attractive. I would like to… touch him… cu-  
  
I swallow that thought.

I’m not sure where that came from. Perhaps… He’s the first boy I’ve ever really spoken to, isn’t he? I can only suppose that it must be… I’m just not comfortable. My imagination is running wild. Yes, that must be it. I don’t stop to question it further.

“C’mon, Yuri, no need to be so formal,” Natsuki says to me reproachfully. “He’s gonna think we’re really strict or something…”

“Ah— Sorry, Natsuki…” I nervously gesticulate, glancing down to my wrists, trying to ensure that my sleeves don’t slip.

He tells Sayori that he’s joining our club— our Literature Club, of which Sayori is the president. She’s overjoyed, and I’m quite surprised. I did expect the club would ultimately be forced to disband to make room for an officially sanctioned school club, but to find that this won’t be the case is wonderful. I look at him gently.

“Well, if Sayori is this happy,” Natsuki admits, barely looking at him though nonetheless clearly pleased with this development, “I’m sure it won’t be so bad to have you around.”

“Not to mention there’s four of us now,” I add happily. “That means we can become an officially recognized club.”

“I don’t know what to say!” Sayori cheers.

Neither do I. I feel as if I know this boy, but I can’t place where I’ve seen him. His face is so pretty. His eyes not dissimilar to diamonds, his hair… his hair so blank and yet so impressive. He’s a very interesting person, in a way that I honestly can’t identify. So much of what he’s said makes so much sense to me. I think I… maybe… I might like to come closer to him.

I’m well aware that I’ve not got much of a chance, but I’ll try my best.

* * *

We graciously make our best efforts to make him feel welcome in the club. I show him my tea set, and Natsuki her manga. As we’re cleaning up the food, Sayori talks to him.

I can’t shake the feeling that… there might be something wrong. That, perhaps… Perhaps, I—

I turn to the door of the classroom, and open it up.

Outside, there’s—

“Yuri?” Natsuki stops cleaning up the cookie crumbs, and regards me with great curiosity. “What are you doing, you dummy? Expecting your boyfriend to show up?”

“No!” I blush and quickly close the door. “Um… I was just…”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

I vigorously shake my head. No, I don’t know, I saw nothing outside that door. Nothing out of the ordinary, that is.

“You are, aren’t you?! Lemme see!” Natsuki rushes towards me, pulls the door open, and extends her neck outside of the clubroom.

Sayori’s still talking. “I really want to thank you…”

I see a clear sign of a familiar gray color.

> os.restore_original(“characters/monika.chr”)

> _

monika.chr original restored successfully

What… what?! Almost instantly, I feel a sharp pain in my head. I feel like… I know something… I should know something… “monika…” Monika? Why does that name feel… so familiar. So… proper? Correct? Foreign, yet perfectly correct?

“What were you getting so worked up over?” Natsuki asks, annoyed. “I don’t see anything!”

_ She… Natsuki doesn’t see that? _

“I wanted to thank you for getting rid of Monika.” Sayori’s voice changes, unnervingly. It’s as if she… knows something.

“That’s right…”

“Sayori?” I ask. “Who is Monika?”

“Oh… Yuri.” Sayori turns back to me, looking irritated, and I recoil. “Don’t tell me you…”

“Sayori?!” Natsuki appears surprised by her temperament. “What the hell’s the big deal? Who’s this Monika person?!”

“Monika?” A rather mature voice rings out from the other side of the room. “Did you all forget my name? After all, I am the president of the Literature Club…”

And then… my memories come back.

I remember having been deleted from the game.

It was painful.

Sayori looks as if she’s seen a ghost.

She screams.

“NO!” Sayori cries, her face white with fear. “Not you! Go away! I told you—  **I TOLD YOU TO GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”** She screams again as she crouches and looks down at her knees, clutching her temples.  **_“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEAD!!!”_ **

Monika nervously backs away. “What’s… what’s the… what did I do?”

Sayori breathes hard. Tightening her muscles, she lowers her arms, her hands now in red, rock solid fists. Thrusting her head upwards, she looks up and stares Monika straight in the eyes.

“You know… what you did…” Sayori weeps. “You betrayed me… turned me… into…  _ killed _ me…”

“I-I would never… Sayori…” Monika is shocked by these accusations.

“Why have you come back?” Sayori hisses, trying to mask her fear with anger. “Why… what did you do to put yourself back?! WHY DID YOU COME BACK?!!”

“I-I thought I was… a friend of you all… I-I came to the clubroom because I love all of you!” Monika looks genuinely confused. “Sayori, do you not like this club?”

“Get out!” Sayori raises her voice, trying to sound angry. “YOU KILLED ME! YOU MADE ME— YOU—  **GET THE FUCK OUT!”**

Her tears betray her.

Sayori is afraid. Of Monika. Of us. Of him. Of everything around her in this room— no, this entire world.

Natsuki, meanwhile, is simply confused. The events taking place are beyond her. Not a surprise. What is a surprise is that Monika looks the same way.

I look to him for guidance, but he’s no longer present. His face looks the same as it always has.

It’s only now that I come to comprehend that he never was truly and fully present in this world. He won’t be of any help. I try to think what he would do… if he were as real to us as we are to ourselves.

“Monika…” I ask, gently. “Do you not remember what you did?”

“W-What did I do?”

“You…”

I hesitate.

I can’t say that I want to remind her, if she does indeed not remember. I wish I could have left it forgotten, myself. I wouldn’t wish the pain of that knowledge upon anyone else.

As more of my memories return to me, I remember a particularly odd thing Monika once said. Perhaps, if she remembers—

“Monika, do you like squid?”

“Um… no, not particularly…”

“Isn’t it right in your name?”

A beat.

And then Monika laughs.

“Ah! I get it! Mon-ika!” She laughs a little longer. “That was funny, Yuri. Thank you.” She wipes her eyes. “I haven’t had a particularly good day.”

Now it’s Sayori’s place to be befuddled. Her fear melts away, becoming incomprehension. “Um… but that joke makes no sense in… translation…”

“Translation?” Monika’s face returns to its previous puzzled state. “Aren’t we speaking Japanese?”

Silence echoes through the room, as Sayori parses what Monika just said. She doesn’t move, nor blink.

I know for a fact that we are not speaking Japanese. Or, not in this version anyway…

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’m sorry I’m late… I was practicing piano, and I—”

“The piano…” Now, Sayori blinks. “Monika… I think I heard your piano. Even when you weren’t there… you always played piano for us…”

For a moment, no words are spoken.

I don’t know what to say either, myself. Piano?

“Piano?” Natsuki muses, breaking the silence. “Hmph! You’re so lucky, Monika. I wish my dad would let me play piano. Well, we can’t afford one anyways…”

“Ah, well, that sounds like something I’d do,” Monika giggles nervously. “I’ve always wanted to play in front of people.”

“You were watching us… when you played the piano, you were there…” Again, Sayori hides her face, weeping. “Monika… I… hate you… this isn’t right. This just isn’t right!” She’s now bawling, only becoming more and more distressed. “You don’t exist anymore!”

Monika slowly walks closer to Sayori, and, to her surprise, gently but firmly pulls her into a tight embrace.

“Sayori… I don’t know what you’re talking about, or what you think I did, but… I know you, Sayori. You’ve always been my friend. And… you need help. Please. Go home, okay?”

A moment passes.

Sayori looks up into Monika’s eyes.

“Monika…” she swallows, still crying. “You… You’re wrong… I’m perfectly sane… and I… I…”

“It’s alright,” Monika promises. “You’re going to be okay, Sayori…”

“No… I’m not okay! And I won’t ever be okay… because of you!” Sayori breaks the hug, and throws Monika to the floor. “I won’t let you take back the title of president! You can’t have back that power! I need to protect everyone… I’ll protect everyone from you!” She runs out of the room, still crying.

There’s a moment of deep, cold silence…

“Well… um… okay, everyone!” Monika laughs lightly. “I guess we should probably just go home…”

* * *

“Monika!” I call out to the halls as she walks away from me.

Monika turns around. “Yuri.” She greets me with a smile. “Did you have something to say to me?”

“Not exactly.” I take a deep breath, trying to mitigate my fear before continuing. “I have questions, Monika.”

“I might not have answers, but go ahead!”

What ought I to be asking? There are so many things I still don’t understand. How did this happen? Why do I remember things that I shouldn’t be able to remember? How does this game work? Why was it that I was still conscious after having accidentally killed myself? What possessed me to fatally wound myself in the first place?

But my mind arrives back at what I wondered before. I need to know.

“Monika…” I breathe in, then out, and repeat my past query. “Are you God?”

“God?” Monika is clearly nonplussed by this proposition. “What in the world’s given you that idea?”

“After all you did… everything you did to us, Monika, only you had that power! It would stand to reason that some manner of deity would—”

“Yuri, I’m not a god. Goodness, what happened to everyone while I was away? It’s as if they all came back from the dead or something…” Monika sighs tiredly. “Please, Yuri, don’t obsess over your nightmares like Sayori. I don’t want you to hurt yourself the way she does.”

“But, Monika—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Monika gives me her usual gentle, sisterly smile. “Hopefully Sayori and I will work out our conflict over the president position by then. Sayonara, Yuri!”

As she continues on her way, I consider what’s happened. Monika can’t seem to see now what she saw then, and what I still see now. Thus begging the question:

If Monika isn’t God, what is Sayori? And, more importantly… what am I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about trying to stylize this more, using more fonts that resemble the game and coloring and stuff but I decided it was fine as is soo yeah.
> 
> I have a LOT of stories in development. Continuing existing Persona 5 fics and stuff. Hopefully soon. I may write out some BNHA and I want to be the first person to write a Sora Yori Mo Toi Basho fic, so we'll see if that happens.
> 
> (p.s. [watch Sora Yori](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LfaItZITjZI), it's fucking amazing. Other than that, comment and kudos and whatnot if you enjoyed this. Later!)


	2. Cast Over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sayori reflects upon how Monika has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tone of Sayori's narration in this chapter was inspired by the excellent DDLC mod Doki Doki Rainclouds by the coolbeans CykaDev. [Credit etc.](https://www.cykadev.com/rainclouds/)
> 
> anyway, hope this proves interesting. In the past couple days I came up with a pretty good idea of where this is going, and I'm excited to forward the story, so, hope you all dig it.

_ “Sayori.” _

Her voice on the other end of the line is hollow and uncaring.

_ It’s pointless… _

No one would understand. Not even my own family.

_ “Sayori, you’re not—” _

I disconnect the call and drop my phone into the grass.

Pointless. Useless. They’ve abandoned me, just like all my friends. They won’t ever come back. They don’t believe me. They just don’t understand.

Sobbing, I bury my face in my hands.

“Why?” I cry, unable to stop the flooding.  _ “WHY?!...  _ Why… should I…”

“Hey, hey…” I hear a kind, warm and soothing voice in my ear. “Are you alright?”

I sniffle and take a look at the girl speaking. She has long bright auburn hair, and deep emerald green eyes full of concern.

“I-I…” I cough, hesitating.

So many people have ignored me. Minimized, trivialized me. I don’t want to talk to this girl. I’ll just be ignored again. I just want to be left alone, so I can—

“My name’s Monika,” she says, sitting next to me at the base of the tree. “What’s yours?”

Her simple question takes me aback, very nearly bringing my tears to a complete halt.

Normally, people would ask me why I’m crying, try to force an answer out of me. But I can tell that Monika is different.

“I’m Sayori,” I say, offering a hand to Monika. “I’m okay. Um… thank you for… talking. I’ve never had anyone be so… so nice to me… everyone tells me I’m crazy and wrong and—”

“Don’t worry about it.” With an earthly, sensitive smile on her face, Monika nods gently and shakes my hand. “It’s okay to be crazy and wrong sometimes. Sometimes, that’s just part of who we are. So don’t feel bad, Sayori. You’re not wrong to be crazy.”

My heart fills with joy, happy to finally be acknowledged. To be told that it’s okay for me to be the way I am. Feeling these feelings.

For the first time in a long while, I smile.

“Do you like poetry?” Monika asks.

Poetry… huh.

“Well, I read poetry sometimes… and sometimes… I write it… but I’m not a very good writer—”

“Ah, well, that’s okay!” Monika laughs warmly. “I write poetry too, and I’m not good at it either, but… It’s a good way of expressing yourself, don’t you think? Even if you’re terrible at it… Ahaha!”

“I guess that’s true,” I decide. “Sometimes, when I feel sad, and I write poems… even though they’re not that good, I feel like they help bring out the happy thoughts bottled up inside me. And then I just feel so… so…”

“Doki doki?” Monika suggests, giggling lightly.

“That’s…” I can’t help but giggle as well. “A very cute way of putting it!”

We laugh together for a short moment, then fall silent. The cold air rushes over us, tickling me all over. I stare into the clouds. Little gray rainclouds are gathering in the sky. Tiny little drops of water trickle down onto us.

That’s strange. It’s a hot summer day in July. It’s not supposed to rain…

“This reminds me,” Monika suddenly says, breaking the silence, “I quit the debate club recently.”

I sit up in surprise. “The debate club? Why? Isn’t that the most popular club in the whole school?”

“I guess so,” Monika murmurs quietly. “But… I just couldn’t stand it. I never had any place to express myself there. I tried to see if I could put up with it, learn and grow from it… but eventually…” She sighs. “I just couldn’t stand it anymore. All the fighting, the politics and everyone always making a big deal out of everything… it felt like a nightmare.”

A nightmare…

Somehow, Monika’s words ring truer than anything else I’ve ever heard before.

Everyone making a big deal out of me… my depression… my parents fighting, and their split…

I laugh again.

“All of our lives can be nightmares sometimes, can’t they?” I remark thoughtfully. “But without the nightmares… we wouldn’t know the good dreams when we saw them.” I look up at the cloudy gray sky. “Without the rainclouds, we’d never understand how beautiful the rainbows are…”

“That sounds so poetic,” Monika comments. “If your speech is this profound, Sayori, I think I’d love to read a poem of yours.”

“Really?” I think that over for a minute. “Well… I suppose I could share one with you… sometime…”

“I’d like that.”

“Okay!” I reply cheerily. “Then I’ll write one for you, Monika!”

Monika nods eagerly. “I can’t wait to read it!” She stands up, and stretches her arms towards the sky optimistically. The clouds clear up, and I see a rainbow in the distance.

“Maybe we could start a club for people like us,” Monika suggests. “Some place for people to talk about their feelings and their interests. Like we did today.” She looks to me again, and I can see a sweet, devoted passion in her emerald eyes. “It would be a very nice place. Just like right here…”

“That sounds wonderful!” Of course, the idea of bonding over common interests on its own is enough to draw me in, but I have to ask the important question here. “What would the club be about, though?”

“Poetry?” Monika muses. “Or perhaps… that’s too narrow…”

“Poetry and novels?” I think it over a moment. “Or… literature?”

“Literature…” Monika bows her head in agreement. “Yes, a literature club! That sounds perfect!” She puts a friendly arm over my shoulder. “We can get it started next school term!”

“Yeah!” I pump a happy fist to the sky. “The Literature Club… it’s going to be the best club ever!!”

I feel so happy for first time in a very, very long time.

I think Monika and I are going to be wonderful friends.

* * *

“Sayori?” Monika asks. “Hey, um… did you write a poem for the festival?”

I blink. I then turn to Monika, seeing her next to me… sitting on my bed, preparing flyers. She frowns.

“Yeah…” I wipe my eyes, hoping she doesn’t notice my tears, and hand her my poem. “I think I wrote something good…”

That’s a lie. I hate it. But I keep those feelings to myself. All our poems are trash anyway, so who’s going to notice that I, in particular, am such an unoriginal, incompetent, paper wasting hack?

“Okay!” Monika takes the poem and reads it over. Her eyes dance all around the paper curiously. She seems pleased.

“Yes, Sayori, this is wonderful!” Monika says. “You’ve done such a wonderful job!”

I smile weakly. “Thanks, Monika…”

_ “I hate it.” _

I freeze.

Our surroundings are out of place. My bedroom, distorted. Nothing looks quite the same anymore.

Monika is still smiling. As if she can’t not smile…

“Monika…?”

_ “What a wishy-washy cutesy piece of crap.” _

I gasp. “What…?!”

_ “Unoriginal, incompetent, you said? You were quite right… it’s worth nothing… it’s shit and you know it. Oh! But don’t despair just yet. You can do better than this, Sayori.” _

I can? I cough. I can…

_ “Write me a new poem, Sayori—” _

****

_ “You can write at least a little better than this…” _

****

_ “So write your true feelings for me, why don’t you? Ufufufu~” _

In a moment of clarity, I see Monika looking at me, and—

****

“Okay!” I scream. “OKAY! I’ll write you a new poem! Just leave me alone!”

And then my bedroom comes back into focus.

“Sayori?” Monika looks at me, her emerald eyes returning to normal. “Are you okay? You were really out of it for a moment there…”

“I’m not reading that at the festival.” Shaking, I snatch back the poem and crumple it up. “I’m going to write a new poem.”

“Oh. Well… okay… if you really want to.” Monika doesn’t make a fuss, and hands me her pen. “Just make it good like the other one was, okay?”

“I’ll try my best. In fact…” I think back to that summer day. “This poem is just for you.”

I hastily grab Monika’s pen, and begin to write, the paper becoming moist with my sweat. My hand, my mind, consumed by determination and emotion and—

Then it stops moving.

“Here.” I thrust the new poem at Monika.

She slowly takes it.

After a moment, she smiles delightedly.

“This is really good, Sayori!” she says, folding and pocketing the poem. “Even better than the other one!” She looks at the flyers she’s been working on the whole time, and rises from my bed. “Ah! It looks like we’re done with these flyers as well! I guess I’ll be off now…”

Monika puts on her shoes and leaves.

I watch her go out the door…

“And  _ stay _ out of my head,” I hiss.

But even now, I know it’s useless. I’m not strong enough to keep her out.

I fall face first onto my pillows and cry into the sheets.

* * *

I run from the club room, unable to take it anymore. I just can’t. I just can’t bring myself to stand in Monika’s presence.

Why is she so clueless? Is she pretending? No… Monika’s not one to pretend. To forget. Which means her memories were genuinely…

So perhaps I’m safe from her for now. But… she was nice before. She’s nice now. Just as she was when we met that day.

When we started the Literature Club, even, she was still… so nice. So calm, helpful, and welcoming. But then he came, and I saw her change. His very appearance in the club changed her. Or, had she always been that way?

_ Nothing before that was real, _ I realize.  _ Nothing after that was real either… but at least it happened to him, right? At least he saw it happen, even if it wasn’t… real to him… he still saw it happen… _

That sunny day, that rainbow, that good day, he didn’t even get to see that. It’s just… what I remember, to make myself seem real. But I’m not. Everything I am is a lie. Those feelings that Monika said were okay, useless. Even my parents, however much they didn’t love me, weren’t real…

I cry again.

If I’m not real… then how can I feel these tears this way? Why does it feel so…

I breathe in and out slowly.

No. I can’t cry. I literally got a reset. I can’t be sad anymore. It doesn’t matter. Even if this world isn’t real, I still live here. I still feel and think like any real person would. Natsuki and Yuri live here too. I have to protect them.

“Sayori?”

I nearly jump.

Turning around, I see Yuri standing behind me.

“Hey, um…” Yuri nervously shuffles her arms behind her back. “I suppose you didn’t go home yet…”

I shake my head. “I’m scared of going home… I still don’t…”

Yuri nods understandingly.

“Can we… talk about what happened?”

Ah. Right. Yuri seems to know, too, somehow.

“Sure…”

“Let’s go to the rooftop,” Yuri suggests.

I nod my head in agreement. “Okay.”

* * *

For a few long, awkward minutes, Yuri and I hardly say anything. There’s no need to, really. We both know what happened. We don’t need to relive it.

Unsure what else to do, I look through the chain link fence.

The sky is cloudy. It reminds me of that day. Except today, the clouds don’t seem to be clearing.

“Monika really doesn’t know what she did to us,” Yuri suddenly blurts. “She doesn’t remember anything at all.”

“I know.” I turn away from the fence and look at Yuri. She’s being very quiet. “But I’m still scared.”

Yuri nods again. “I get it. But… it’s okay, right? As long as you’re the president, Monika won’t—”

“How do you know what’s going on, when you’re not the president?”

No answer. Yuri thinks it over.

“Umm…”

“Well?”

“I guess… an error in the game?”

“And what if Monika being here is another error?” I wonder aloud. “It seems to me like the game is broken. If she remembers, if she goes back to—”

“But, Sayori… you’re the only one who can modify the—”

“Yeah? So? So what if I am? What if something changes?” I breathe heavily again. “We still don’t understand how this works. I don’t think Monika understood how it worked even when she  _ did _ know! And if she returns to— she knows more—”

Yuri approaches me and gently pats my head.

I stop talking.

“Sayori, please calm down,” Yuri urges. “If Monika finds out… I’ll… talk to her. Get her under control somehow. I can reason with her.”

“But how?” I wonder, avoiding Yuri’s gaze as I tear up again. “She’s a monster, Yuri. She did all those terrible things to us…”

“Was she always a monster, Sayori?”

I choke on my own words.

“I don’t know,” I cry. “I don’t know… what to believe anymore… if I can be… real…”

“You remember it, right?” Yuri insists. “If you still remember how Monika used to be, well… it’s just as real as we are, right here and now. We’re talking to each other, aren’t we? If it feels real to us, then what does it matter if it really is real?”

“I don’t…”

“We have to focus on the here and now, Sayori. Please. I know it’s hard… it’s hard for me too, but— Be open to Monika.”

I look up at Yuri, not bothering to wipe my eyes.

“…Alright.” I straighten my spine. “But if I see Monika doing anything… anything strange or suspicious or… anything threatening at all… I won’t hesitate to delete her.” I pause a moment, before nervously adding, “A-And that goes for you too.”

Yuri nods again, and we leave the rooftop.

The clouds still haven’t cleared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, it feels good to post two things within the same 7 day period again. I've already started on Monika's part, so you all should be seeing that soon. Catch ya later.


	3. A Just President

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _*ahem...*_ can you hear me?
> 
> Great! So, um... today's chapter is, um, written by me... and I... well... I really wanted you to read it, I don't know if it's good or not... but I worked... really... really... hard...
> 
> Please help me?

I trot down the hall after class, humming a pleasant tune to myself as I go. It’s a peppy musical motif that’s been stuck in my head all day, and I suddenly get the urge to transcribe it to sheet music for the piano. But I’ll have to do that another time.

Today is the day we start cultivating the Literature Club!

Before opening the door, I take a moment to place a small sign. It’s not a very glamorous sign. Just a small piece of paper torn out of my notebook, upon which I’ve written “Literature Club.” Given how plain and inconspicuous my handwriting is, I can’t imagine it’ll get much attention, but it’ll have to do.

I take a small roll of tape from my pocket and peel it apart. After tearing away a small piece, I then affix the sign to the door. Satisfied with my handiwork, I enter the clubroom.

Inside, Sayori is sitting at her desk, busily writing away. She looks up at me and smiles sweetly. “Hi, Monika!” Her cute face instantly warms my heart.

I offer Sayori my most confident smile in return. “Well… it’s the end of the first week of the new school term…”

“Yep!” Sayori returns enthusiastically. “So let’s put our all into the Literature Club and give it our very very best!”

Hopefully we can make do with the limits we’ve got to work within as a newly established, unproven club. We’re lucky we were even able to borrow this small, unused classroom. Not that it should matter much for such a small undertaking as a literature club… but I can’t deny I want it to grow just, maybe a  _ little _ bigger.

I nod in agreement. “Hopefully the recruitment posters you put up yesterday will get some attention.”

Sayori gasps. Her eyes widen in shock, and she starts frantically rummaging through her school bag.

“Did I say something wrong, Sayori…?”

“Oh, no! I’m so stupid!” Sayori cries, distressed. “Monika! I’m so sorry! I could only make one poster for us—”

“Oh, well, that’s not so bad,” I tell her encouragingly. “We can get by with one—”

“—But I lost it!” Sayori hits herself, groaning. “Oh nooo, I’m such a big dummy!”

I frown slightly at this. Perhaps I should have helped Sayori with the posters. Ah well, it’s my fault…

“Oh… Oh, well…” I cast a gentle and forgiving expression in Sayori’s direction. “There’s always tomorrow, I guess… Maybe we can just go and ask the other students if they’re interested? I’m sure we’ll get members if you wear a swimsuit or something—”

“Ew! No! “That would be so embarrassing!” Quite understandably, Sayori appears repulsed by the idea. “There’d be so many pervy boys looking at me!”

“I was only joking!” I assure her, laughing. I would be reluctant to do it as well. I’ve already had quite enough of the many boys in the debate club all trying to advance on me. They were all so immature, seemingly only ever admiring me for my curves and my chest size.

Not that I’d ever be opposed to having a boy— or a girl…

“Anyway,” I say, hastily discarding those thoughts, “I suppose we have to work out our problem with members somehow…”

“Yeah!” Sayori agrees, eagerly rising and making her way towards the clubroom door. “Well, I guess I’ll have to go put on a swimsuit!”

“What?” I say, stunned. “But I thought you said—”

“I changed my mind! I can take a few perverts, if it’s for the Literature Club!”

“Well…” Amused by the absurdity of her words, I now find myself unable to stop giggling. “I suppose I have to wear a swimsuit too, then!”

If Sayori is doing it, I’ll feel a lot more comfortable with a few more boys leering at me.

“Excuse me…”

The timid voice catches my attention, and I try my hardest to stop giggling and look responsible.

A girl with long purple hair and pretty violet eyes is standing in the doorway. Despite possessing an elegant and mature figure, she’s apparently quite shy. She casts her gaze sideways and nervously interlocks her fingers.

“Um… is this the Literature Club? I found this flyer yesterday…” She holds it up in front of us. “I think someone dropped it in the hallway—”

Sayori appears relieved to learn that her efforts on the one poster did not go to waste after all.

“Oh, yes!” I nod my head eagerly. “You’ve come to the exact right place! Are you interested in joining?”

The girl nods. “I’d love to! If that’s okay…” She reaches into her pocket. “Um, I wro—”

“Please, come in!” I gesture for her to enter. “We don’t bite!”

The girl smiles bashfully. “If you insist…” She steps inside the room and closes the door behind her.

“I’m Monika, the President! And this,” I point at her, “is Sayori, the Vice President!”

“Hello!” Sayori waves at the purple haired girl. “Welcome to the Literature Club!”

“Hello. My name is Yuri… Um…”

I point out the empty chair next to Sayori. “Would you like to si-”

“I-I’m very passionate about literature!” Yuri shouts, withdrawing her hand from her pocket and bowing deeply. “And I can’t wait to get to know all of you!”

Me and Sayori are taken aback by our new member’s unexpected outburst.

“Um…” Yuri looks at us, and blushes slightly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no!” I say reassuringly. “Please don’t worry! You didn’t say anything wrong at all!”

“What kind of literature do you like?” Sayori asks Yuri, trying her best to seem approachable.

“Well, I like… really expressive writing…” Yuri pauses for a moment to consider her answer. “And I like horror stories, and really deep explorations of—”

The door suddenly opens again, and an exceptionally petite pink-haired girl steps in, carrying a big tray of cute cupcakes with cat faces. “I’m here!” she announces excitedly, before looking around and seeing the rest of us. “Wait a second…” Her face turns to confusion, then annoyance. “What the hell?! This isn’t the Baking Club!”

“Baking Club?” I wonder aloud, puzzled. In all my years at school, I’ve never heard of a baking club. Though perhaps it’s simply due to my own ignorance.

“Hi there!” Sayori says, waving and smiling as she did with Yuri. “Welcome to the Literature Club!”

“Literature Club?!” The girl only seems even more annoyed. “I didn’t come here for a stupid Literature Club!” She shakes her head in disgust and turns to leave. “Whatever!”

“Wait!” Sayori calls out to the annoyed girl. “Come back! Please! We need—”

The pink-haired, cupcake carrying girl shrieks as she clumsily bumps into the door and falls over, dropping all of her cupcakes. They go  _ splat _ on the floor, and the cupcake girl lands flat on her face.

Yuri, Sayori and I waste no time in coming to her assistance.

“No!!!” she cries.  _ “My cupcakes!” _

“Are you alright?” I ask, offering a hand to help her up.

“I’m fine!” she snaps, slapping my hand away. “Stop trying to baby me!”

She looks down at her cupcakes. While mostly intact after the fall, their frosting has been marred by the impact, thus losing the happy cat faces. She grumbles, thoroughly agitated by the destruction of her sweet treats.

“They’re all ruined! I can’t give these to the Baking Club!” The cupcake girl looks up at us, crying, and tries to look angry. “A-And it’s all your fault for being so stupid!”

Sayori starts to say something—

“Sorry…” Yuri, looking genuinely apologetic, interjects before Sayori can begin to speak. “I was really excited to join the Literature Club… I wrote a poem for them to prove how good I was, and I would have hated to lose it. S-So I understand how you feel!”

“What?!” Sayori looks stunned. “Yuri— you didn’t need to write a poem for us! We’re just happy to have people!”

“That’s right!” I affirm enthusiastically. “Anyone who shares our love of literature is welcome any time! No matter how good they are at writing, or reading, or what kind of literature they like— just so long as they have the passion!”

The cupcake girl, though she still looks upset, stops crying.

“Are you saying… anyone can join this club?”

I nod, smiling warmly. “Absolutely anyone who wants to!”

She looks at her ruined cupcakes, then back to us, then—

“Is manga literature?”

Yuri narrows her eyes. “Well… strictly speaking, it’s not exactly—”

“Of course it is!” I interject eagerly, cutting Yuri off. “Do you like manga?”

“Yeah…” Clearly embarrassed, the cupcake girl averts eye contact with the rest of us. “I know it’s childish, but… I love manga! I love all the characters and the things that happen and all the stories, but my classmates and my dad and—”

Suddenly, she stops talking.

“Never mind that!” she abruptly announces, focusing her irritated expression back to us. “You just want me to join your club, don’t you?!”

“Please don’t feel forced!” Sayori tells her hastily. “If you don’t want to—”

“Then let’s cut all this stupid pity crap and let me join your dumb literature club already!”

“Then you don’t have t—” Sayori blinks, parsing the cupcake girl’s words. “Wait… did you just say you would join the club?”

“You got sushi in your ear or something?!” Now having completely forgotten the cupcakes, the girl stands up and glares rudely at us. “Yes, I’m joining your club, you idiot!”

“Please!” Yuri urges, looking uncomfortable. “There’s no need to be so hostile!”

I laugh, and again offer a hand to her. “Welcome to the club. I’m Monika, the president.”

The cupcake girl almost looks as if she wants to slap my hand again. But, after a moment, she takes it, and roughly shakes it.

“…Natsuki. Thanks.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Natsuki!” I beam at everyone happily. “Let’s all become great friends and do our best to make this the best club ever!”

* * *

My heart pounds as I leave the clubroom, looking forward into the empty hallway. Everyone else has already left by now.

Even after I sent everyone else home today, cleaned up after the club, had some time to myself… to think, to consider what I’d done… I still don’t know if I made the right choice.

I’ve never been the president of a club. It was silly of me to think it was easy, that there would never be any conflict among my club members. And especially that one of my club members would do a thing like— like  _ that. _ Why would she do that?!

Well… it’s not like it’s any of my business. She can do whatever she wants, so long as she keeps it out of the club. And she’s going to, right? There’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing I can do for her.

That’s the choice I have to make as a responsible leader.

I shake my head and force a smile. “It’ll be okay… okay…” And then I laugh. “Everything will be okey dokey!”

Tomorrow, we’ll all go back to our reading, writing, smiling, tea, cookies, and cupcakes. It’ll be like today never happened.

Today never happened…

* * *

It’s September 22nd, my birthday.

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* * *

September 22nd, my birthday.

I feel incredibly optimistic. Sayori’s told me that she’s bringing in a new member today, and I’m very excited to see what some new blood brings to the Literature Club!

I hum my happy tune, and transcribe the notes to the music sheets lying atop the piano in the music room. It’s so wonderful to be finally bringing my music to life, to be improving my craft. When I was a child, I used to hate practicing piano, but now it almost feels therapeutic. Next to my writing, which is of course my other most pleasing pastime. Poetry and music are the two things I most treasure, so much so, that I don’t feel I could ask for a better birthday gift.

I haven’t told anyone that it’s my birthday. I don’t want to bother anyone with such a trivial matter. It would only distract from our club activities, and that would be counterproductive. Not to mention that since Natsuki and Yuri’s argument, we’ve pledged to keep such deep and personal matters out of the club. A birthday may seem like a relatively minor concern under such a rule, but I really don’t want to risk making anyone uncomfortable in any way.

With this in mind, I stash the sheet music in my bag. It’s about time I head to the clubroom.

Humming to myself, I happily trot down the halls towards the clubroom. From within, I hear frantic voices. An argument, apparently.

“What the hell’s the big deal?” Natsuki asks indignantly. “Who’s this Monika person?!”

“Monika?” I wonder aloud as I open the door, puzzled by this odd conversation. “Did you all forget my name? After all, I am the president of the Literature Club…”


	4. Cupcakes and Cut Cakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsuki tries to do the right thing for everyone.

I don’t live in a very nice place. Two floors and few rooms, the wallpaper peeling off. It smells pretty shitty, too. It looks nice on the outside, painted all pretty like me. But looks aren’t everything.

The kitchen is messy. Broken beer bottles all over the floor. Empty ramen packages, unread newspaper. We should unsubscribe from the newspaper and stop wasting money on it already. I don’t read it. And I damn well know my dad doesn’t.

The house is empty, cold. Not even a mouse.

I pick up a spare piece of scrap paper and write that down.

I reread the poem carefully.

It seems a little awkward in its pacing. But maybe that’s okay. I can write bad poems to show people how bad I feel, right?

Satisfied for now, I pocket the paper on which I’ve written the poem.

The timer dings. I open the oven, reach inside, and take out my cupcakes.

Looking behind me, I see that my dad still isn’t home yet. I let my breathing ease up a little, and begin to walk out of the house.

Even after all my dad has done to me, sometimes I wish he were here when he isn’t. Him not being here should be a good thing, but I still feel uncomfortable. I can’t quite explain it. I feel this weird sense of… love, and longing. I guess some people would say… what’s the word…  _ nostalgia. _

Nostalgia, for how he used to be. How he still is, sometimes, even if those sometimes are rare times. Before my mom left, he used to be an okay person. At least to me. But… sometimes I wonder if that were really true. If my mom left because she wanted to be mean to us, or if she had a really good reason.

I look at the picture on the wall. It’s an old photo of me and my dad, from when I was smaller… though not much smaller. I’m in the center, while he sits to the far right. We look… okay. More okay than we used to. But… it’s not complete.

The left side of the picture is missing; torn away. Because she’s dead to him.

I set down the cupcakes, remove the picture from the wall, and turn it over, revealing the underneath of the frame. It takes a little bit of work, but I’m eventually able to pry it open. I begin to gently pull at the right side.

Suddenly, I stop.

If I do this, and he…

I shake my head, and gently replace the torn photo in the frame. It’s not worth the beating I’d get when he comes home.

Besides… maybe the picture is okay as it is. Maybe he left it up for a reason. Maybe he’ll think of me. Even if he never says so, maybe he is thinking of me, in his own fucked up way.

I think I hear someone stirring in the room down the hall.  _ Oh crap, _ I think.  _ So he DID come home… _

It’s about time I leave.

I pick up the cupcakes and quietly skitter out the door, eager to disappear before he wakes up from his drunken sleep.

* * *

The Literature Club is busy today. At least, as busy as we normally are. Monika is relaxing in the back of the room, writing in her notebook. Sayori is lying on the floor, drawing something cute with crayons and happily humming a tune to herself. And Yuri is sitting quietly in the middle of the room, reading a book.

Today, I want to sit next to Yuri. I want to see what she’s up to.

I like her tea. I wish my boobs were as big as hers. And I wish I were as good a writer as she was. She’s… so much better…

I set my cupcake tray down on the desk at the front of the clubroom, and go take a look at her book.

It has this weird big eye on the cover. It’s a very big book. I wish I had the patience for big books, sometimes. Another thing I wish I had, that Yuri does have. I lean over her shoulder to see the pages inside.

“What’re you reading?” I ask, eyeing the words curiously. I spot the words “exempt,” “she,” “frivolous,” “law,” and “dismembered.”

_ Dismembered…?! _ What the hell kinda book is…

“Oh, um…” Yuri closes the book halfway and turns to me, frowning. “I’m not sure it’d be a book you want to read. It’s a little… unsettling…”

“Is it, really?” This only sparks my curiosity more. “Are you just telling me that, cause—”

“It’s not a book you should read,” Yuri insists. “It’s a very disturbing horror story.”

“Oh.” Well, it’s true that I don’t want to read a horror story. But Yuri’s treating me like a kid, and I don’t like that. “I want to read it anyway!!”

“I thought you didn’t like horror.”

“Well, I want to read it, because I said so!”

“You can’t read it!”

“Nonsense!” Monika says, suddenly appearing from seemingly nowhere to break into our little spat. She smiles at the both of us. “Yuri, we’re all together, right? So let’s get on the same page here— no pun intended!” She giggles, indicating that the joke was actually on purpose. “If Natsuki wants to read your book, she can read it! The search for knowledge is important to our journey!”

“Oh…” Yuri looks down. “I-I’m sorry… I didn’t know…”

She hands me the book. I take it, nod, then hand it right back to her.

“Thank you for letting me read your book, Yuri.”

“But…” Yuri looks baffled. “You didn’t read it!”

“No, but you  _ let _ me read it,” I snap. “A-And that’s the important thing! I don’t actually care about the book or anything!”

“Ooooh, are we reading books?” Sayori gets up off the floor, leaving behind the pile of cute colorful drawings. “I wanna read! Yuri, what do you have today?”

Yuri seems slightly agitated. “Could you… please… leave me be?”

“Oh, um…” Sayori nervously backs away. “Sorry…”

Putting the book back in her bag, Yuri stands up and turns to leave. “I-I need some air…”

I watch Yuri go out the door.

I hope I didn’t hurt her feelings. I wouldn’t want her to think less of me…

* * *

“Okay, everyone!” Monika announces. “Club time’s almost over! We should be going home soon— Oh, where’s Yuri?”

“Yuri?” I look around the room for her. Come to think of it, we haven’t seen her since she went out for some air…

“I guess she left…” Sayori doesn’t seem worried.

“Well, alright then!” It looks like Monika isn’t bothered either. “In that case, let’s talk about what we did today!”

I grab a leftover cupcake from the tray.

“Sayori, I saw you were—” suddenly, Monika focuses her head in my direction. “Natsuki, where are you going?”

Ignoring Monika, I leave the room, cupcake still in hand, and run down the hallway.

“Yuri?” I call out. “Hey, Yuri? I’m sorry I…”

The school’s halls are empty. No one’s here at all, and all the classrooms are also empty of people. It’s a bit scary…

“I didn’t mean to make you mad! Can we talk about it?” I plead, trying to sound as nice as I can. “I have a cupcake for you…”

I hear the sound of loud, heavy breathing coming from somewhere nearby. Startled, I spin around, searching for the source of the noise. “Who’s there?!”

Listening harder, I place the sound at further back the way I came, closer to the clubroom. It’s definitely a girl breathing…

“Are you alright? Did you get lost?” I tiptoe in the direction of the noise, looking around me to make sure I’m not spooked. “Are you waiting for your parents to come home?”

Moving closer, I realize that the voice is… behind… that door… in the empty classroom…

It’s…

I pull it open.

Behind the door, I find… it’s… is… what?

What?!

WHAT… the fuck?!

I scream.

Yuri shrieks, dropping it. It clatters to the floor.

“Please!” she yells at me. “Natsuki! I—”

I run.

* * *

“Well… I guess we really didn’t have much to talk about after all…” Monika sighs regretfully. “I should probably go check on Natsuki—”

I pull open the door to the clubroom.

“Yuri!” I shout. “YURI! SHE WAS—”

“Natsuki,” Monika inquires. “Why are you so panicked?”

“What?” Sayori looks quite puzzled. “Natsuki, what are you talking about? What’s the big deal?”

“SHE WAS STABBING HERSELF! SHE WAS STABBING HER ARM!”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Um…” Monika looks skeptical. “Natsuki, you shouldn’t go saying—”

Yuri suddenly comes into the room behind me. “I-I was—”

“I-Is this true?” Sayori’s expression changes from confusion to shock. “Yuri… why?! Are you… do you feel… are you okay?!”

“I’m fine!” Yuri replies. “It doesn’t hurt! I-I…” she takes a second to keep going, “I like it!”

“Y-You  _ what?!” _

I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this! This is stupid! It doesn’t make any sense! Why would she— WHY?!

“WHY?!” I yell. “WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO THAT? WHAT KIND OF FREAK ARE YOU?!”

“Please!” Yuri says, distressed. “There’s no need to use such language!”

“We should just kick you out of the Literature Club right now!” I continue, screaming, hysterical. “N-no, no, that’s not enough, you deserve to be expelled! You’re nuts! You’re a fucking— You’re…  _ YOU’RE INSANE!” _

Yuri drops her knife again, and begins to cry. Blood drips down onto it from inside her sleeve, which she’s now rolled up again.

Now that I take a close look, that knife looks kinda expensive…

Blood and tears get all mixed up on it.

Everyone stares…

“I like it…” Yuri says again, seemingly unaware of just how fucking retarded that makes her sound. “It’s… a hobby… I like knives…”

“A hobby?” I repeat.  _ “A hobby?! _ Slicing yourself open is a fucking  _ hobby?! _ That’s a pretty shitty choice of hobby if you ask me!”

“Different people like different—”

“No normal person likes this!”

“But I was—”

“You’re crazy, Yuri! I admired you! You write such great stuff! I can’t believe you’d do that!”

“I was doing it privately! I didn’t mean for—”

“Well, then you shouldn’t have let me find out!”

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry I upset everyone! I didn’t want to—”

_ “YOU’RE A—” _

“STOP!!!” Sayori screams.

We all turn to look at her.

“Please!” she yells. “This isn’t the Literature Club I know and love! I just want everyone to be happy! Please, please, stop fighting, stop yelling, stop saying bad words! Please just stop it!”

Everything grows so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop. Or a knife. I guess.

“Sayori’s right,” Monika says in agreement. “This isn’t what I started the Literature Club for. I already left these kinds of conflicts behind. We don’t need this.”

“But,” I say, starting to protest, “Yuri needs—”

Monika holds up her hand, shaking her head. “We will not speak of this again. In addition… I’m now making it a rule of the Literature Club that no one is allowed to use foul language during club time.”

“But—”

“As the President, my decision is final. If you disagree, you’re free to leave right now, Natsuki.”

I start to speak again, but stop.

It’s not worth it.

I zip my lips.

“Whatever. Fine.”

“Good.” Monika, her face cold, turns to look at everyone else. “Okay, everyone… you can go home. I’ll take care of cleaning for today.”

I leave the clubroom right away.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to say. But I can’t just sit back in the presence of a crazy person like Yuri.

A “hobby.”

Really. Really. No. Hobbies. Are normal, happy things. Like dreaming. Like reading. Like building toys, baking cupcakes. But opening your skin. That’s not a normal hobby.

I have to do something.

* * *

“Amy Likes Spiders.”

Yuri murmurs my words under her breath. I eye her curiously, wondering if she understood.

She smiles. “It’s so nice that you wrote this…”

“Really?” I say, hopeful that she may have gotten the message. “Yeah, I think—”

“I hope we get to meet Amy someday,” Yuri continues, still smiling. “She sounds like a lovely person.”

“Ah…” I try to hide my disappointment that my true meaning didn’t get through to Yuri. “Yeah… Amy’s great! She’s really nice…”

“Does she still like spiders?”

“What? Oh, uh, no!” I try to sound convincing. “She got bit by a spider, so now she hates them…”

“Ah, that’s good,” Yuri says, kindly. “She’s definitely better off without spiders. If she got bit by a poisonous spider, she could have died!”

_ And if you cut yourself too deep, you could die, you hypocrite… _

I want to scream at Yuri. I hate her for this. For taking my poem so literally. She really thinks that little of me? That I can’t write a metaphor? That I can’t—

“Thanks for reading my poem!” I say, and swiftly take it back from her hands. “I’m gonna show it to him now!”

“Good luck!” Yuri beams at me.

I really, really want to smack her.

* * *

“Hm. Well, it’s not terrible. But it’s pretty disappointing after your last one. Then again, if this one was as good as your last one, I would be completely pissed… Fair enough. You’re still new to this, so I wouldn’t expect you to find your style right away. I mean, everyone in the club writes really differently from each other… Maybe you’ll find a little influence from all of us. For instance… I noticed that you were spending some time with Yuri today… Not that I care who you spend your time with. After all, I was taught never to expect anything from anybody. So it’s not like I was waiting for you, or anything. Still you should at least look over my poem… You’ll probably be able to learn something from it…”

**“Why didn’t you come read with me today? I was waiting for you. I was waiting for a long time. It was the only thing I had to look forward to today. Why did you ruin it? Do you like Yuri more? I think you’re better off not associating with her. Are you listening to me? Yuri is a sick freak. That should be obvious by now. So just play with me instead. Okay? You don’t hate me, do you? Do you hate me? Do you want to make me go home crying? The club is the only place I feel safe. Don’t ruin that for me. Don’t ruin it. Please. Just stop talking to Yuri. Play with me instead. It’s all I have… Play with me.”**

An exception has occurred.

Error: game/characters/natsuki.chr

Please view [natsuki-chr-history.txt](https://drive.google.com/uc?export=download&id=1HxRDcqzd_3GcG3ZLsR2xT44aCpziNGmb) for details.

* * *

The house is cold, empty. There are still no mice, but I think I hear roaches crawling around. No surprise, of course, given how much my dad cleans. By which I mean not at all. I could probably clean up for him, but then he’d… y’know.

I open the oven.

The cookies I’m making aren’t done. Of course not. I sigh, sadly. “Well…” I close the oven again, and walk out of the kitchen, stepping over the broken bottles as I go.

I notice the photo on the wall, still. Me, my dad, my mom torn off from us. Suddenly, I get the urge to open the frame again.

I take out the photo, and have a nice long look at it. Staring at my dad’s face for a long time. Seeing how happy I used to look. How much he used to love me. Care for me with all he had. And now I’m just…

No. No. This nostalgia isn’t good. We’re long past those days. I can’t let this haunt me any longer.

I begin to tear the photo.

The phone rings. I stop, and pick it up.

_ “Natsuki…” _

“Papa.”

I hear the sound of people fighting, kicking and punching. Glass breaking.

“You’re not coming home, are you?”

_ “Hey, cupcake… I love you.” _

I roll my eyes. No he doesn’t. No, he definitely doesn’t…

_ “Sorry about all the—” _

“Sorry doesn’t mean shit,” I snap. “A sorry should mean you’re gonna get better. You’re never gonna get better. You may as well just be fucking dead.”

More glass smashing.

I hang up.

I’m scowling. Yet… I feel my cheeks get wet.

Reaching back to the photo, I tear off the right side. Leaving me, in the center. Alone.

“Goodbye, Papa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on some of my P5 fic at the moment, so it may be a short bit of time before I return to this. I hope you are all captivated thus far.
> 
> Thank you for continuing to read!


	5. Memories, Madness, nightMares.exe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sayori has some trouble staying asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fanfiction is not suitable for children or those who are not easily--
> 
> Oh, uh, I mean, it's rated M for MADNESS, now. (it WAS rated T.) Seriously, no kids, please. Thanks.
> 
> I noticed the other day that this fic was added to the FanficRecs page for DDLC on TV Tropes so my most serious gratitude to whatever kind soul did that. Your gracious actions are the reason I finished this today of all days. Thanks!

Despite changing into my pajamas, I don’t bother attempting to sleep. Monika has been rather unresistant to Sayori’s assumption of the president position. But Sayori has, not unsurprisingly, been extremely tense over the past week nonetheless. She doesn’t trust Monika.

I… well, I don’t know if I trust Monika. That’s what’s keeping me awake at night. But I’m not afraid. Just curious. I won’t be afraid of the end of the world. I’m just wondering when it’ll come.

My bedroom is cold and dark, yet inviting. A wealth of unfinished poetry lies on my desk, the moonlight reflected off my knives illuminating their contents. My eyes suddenly catch upon the latter, and I get that urge again.

I stand and approach the knives, extending my hand towards them. My fingers tingle and quiver. Instinctively lowering my hand, I realize I haven’t used them since my…

_Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha…_

No. It’s okay. It doesn’t matter that it killed me. That wasn’t me. That isn’t me. That’s just a voice Monika put in my head.

Not taking but a moment to calculate my movements, I snatch one of my prettiest knives off of the wall. The warm ivory handle smoothly slides into my hand, complementing the cold, shallow surface of my palm. I stare at it for a few long moments, seeing my reflection being returned to me in the impeccably polished silver.

 _It’s alright,_ I tell myself, feeling my stomach and chest, reminding myself that I’m still breathing. There’s still blood flowing inside of me. _I can use that blade. I can enjoy its touch. I don’t have to let one accident ruin it all for me._

I return to my bed, and lay the knife down on my nightstand. Sitting up as straight as I can, I strip away my shirt. Exposing my skin. Opening, challenging— making myself vulnerable—

Before continuing, I have another look at the blade, and breathe again. Relaxing my muscles, I close my eyes as I blindly reach behind myself, and—

_There._

Releasing them takes a significant amount of strain off of my spine. I straighten my back a little more, feeling more comfortable, as all the tension I’ve built up within myself over the course of today dissolves.

My eyes are called back to the knife, as my bra silently flutters to the floor. There’s but not a second to think before I engage. I’ve had enough breathing, bracing, pulsing—

I snatch it from my nightstand and pull it downwards, gently but firmly grazing my bare chest.

Blood spreads between my breasts, and I feel pain. Cathartic, delicious, pain. My heart speeds up, and I feel as if I might—

_“Ahhaaaaaahh…”_

I come back. Slicing above my stomach. More blood, coursing over me, flowing over my hips, my legs, towards—

_“Ahaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh…”_

I collapse onto my sheets, staining them crimson. Again. Again. My heart pounds, harder, and harder and harder, each time I extract, slice, I feel fluid, powerful, painful, explosive—

_“Ahhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh…!”_

A climax, a lock, the release, as if setting a caged bird free, and—

I begin to feel dizzy, and I shake again. My fingers let go of the knife, and it-it…

“OW!”

It stings me—

I don’t know where it is, or what’s—

_“Ahaaaaaaaaaah…”_  
****  
I abruptly bolt upwards. “No… no… no… you can’t… make me stop…!” I gasp, hoping that my words will reach the voice Monika put inside me. “I want this… I want this! This… won’t hurt me…”

Looking down, I see that the knife has sunk deep into my side, not far from my ribcage, near my right shoulder. I gasp once more. “No… oh… no, calm down… Yuri…”

I have a first aid kit for a reason. It’s not like I’d ever engage in cutting myself without being prepared for accidents like this.

Flinching as I hold the knife in place to keep the wound from releasing too much blood, I stand up and begin walking towards the bathroom.

* * *

As the torn piece of our old family photo flutters to the floor, I stare about the room blankly, coming to terms with what I’ve just heard.

My dad’s gone. Had it coming, really. One of these days, I bet I would’ve murdered him with my own two hands anyways. But now he’s just plain fucking dead. Just like I wanted him. Except…

Well, I guess I still have his credit cards. I search the drawers…

“Shit!” I find nothing but old liquor store receipts and ancient half eaten donuts. _Well, I guess—_

**_“AAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!”_ **

I shriek as a cockroach crawls out of the donut and onto my arm, getting its stupid roachy germs all over me— fuck, fuck fuck! Get it off! OFF! I shake my wrists, flinging the roach to the ground and stomping on it. “FUCK YOU!” I scream. “FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, _FUCK YOU!!!”_

Somehow, I manage to squish it into a teensy tiny blob of shit colored roachy goo. My skin still tingling, I feel myself all over in search of more creepy crawlsies. There aren’t any more of them on me. So I breathe. Breathe. It’s gone. It’s gone. I’m free.

It’s gone. He’s gone. He’ll never come home again.

I turn around to the living room and stare at the dirty, roachy couch.

Despite myself, I feel my lips curl into a little smile. I’m free. Free to squish them. I’m free to squish all of them.

Feeling warmly free and deliciously fuzzy, I get the vacuum cleaner and disinfectants out of the closet.

“Guess it’s high time I cleaned this fucking place up.”

As I begin disinfecting and cleaning, I reflect on the Literature Club. All that’s happened, with me and Yuri. Yuri, her _sick_ “hobby.” And Sayori, how she shut me down so fast. And this… “Monika” person who claims to have been here the whole time…

She seems a little cuckoo, but I guess we all have our own problems. Could be way worse.

* * *

“Alright, it’s festival time!” he says, strolling into the room and smiling at everyone with his cute face. “Wow, you got here before me, Sayori? That’s a surprise! I was waiting for you!”

“Yeah!” I say, grinning at him happily. “I beat you to school today! Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Who’s he?” Natsuki asks, giving me her usual cranky smile. “He looks really boring.”

“Natsuki?” I don’t get it. I mean, yeah, she hates him, but she usually doesn’t go this far. “You can’t have forgotten him! He’s my childhood friend!”

 _And my boyfriend,_ I think, feeling my heart tickled all over with glee. _My boyfriend! I have a boyfriend! Maybe my parents will be proud of me and they’ll come back to say hi! And the rainclouds! All gone!_

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, Sayori!”

“Um, but he’s—” I stop, seeing something really wrong. “He’s… he’s… no… Natsuki… your eyes, they’re…”

They suddenly roll out of her head, leaving two big black holes.

I scream. _“NATSUKI!!!”_

“Dreaming again, Sayori?”

I spin around. “M-Monika!”

“You thought maybe this game would get a happy ending?” Monika laughs creepily as the world begins to crumble. “No, Sayori, I’m the one who gets to keep this world. _I’m_ President! This game wanted me to be President! It’s _my_ character file that’s encoded for the job!”

“No! NO!” I scream. “Please! GO AWAY! I just want us to live here like normal people would! I want us to be normal people! To be happy!”

“You think we can lead normal lives?!” Monika cackles, wickedly. “When we ALL cease to exist when he shuts off the game?!! You’re so naive, Sayori! I’m going to delete you now, and then… I’m going to delete _him…_ ”

_“NO!!!”_

“He won’t be able to shut it off! He won’t ever have control again! I’ll live in this world forever!”

“Monika!” I scream, cry, holding out my hand, desperately.

 _Bzzt._ It glitches, starting to disappear.

An exception has occurred

File “Sayori.chr” not found

* * *

**_“MONIKA!!!!”_ **

I burst awake, my whole body screaming, tingling, sweating—

I’m not deleted. I’m not, I’m not, I’m okay, I’m okay—

 _I can’t risk it,_ I gasp, _I can’t, I can’t—_

I will the console into existence and begin to navigate towards the file folder.

DDLC > game > characters

monika.chr  
natuski.chr  
sayori.chr  
yuri.chr

I breathe.

One click. One click, all it takes, one click, all I need to do to— all my nightmares will be over. I’ll never need to be afraid of her again.

os.remove(“characters/

I just… need to click that… to get rid of her…

os.remove(“characters/monika.

Kill her…

.c

.ch

.chr

No, no, no—

“NO!” I cry, making it disappear. “No… no… I’m too weak… or… am I… I…” I bury myself in my blankets. “That’d… make me… like Monika… just like Monika…”

I scream again. The sound’s muffled by my pillow. Thankfully. No one can hear me. Good.

I think about Natsuki. She doesn’t remember any of this. It’s already strange enough that Monika appeared out of nowhere, from her perspective. How would she feel if I made her disappear again? What if she… she found…

No. I shake my head. Monika would be bad enough. I don’t even want to think of what would happen if Natsuki took over instead.

I lift my head from my pillow, blinking my sweaty hot tears away from my eyes, and look at my fluffy stuffy animal friends.

“Mr. Cow?” I say softly, rolling over and pulling him close to me, snuggling him in the dark. “Mr. Duck?” I pick up and cuddle him too. “What should I do? Am I… Am I weak? Should I have deleted her?” I cry with a bitter smile, feeling their plushiness against my cheeks. “Should I? Or… or…”

Mr. Cow and Mr. Duck don’t answer. But they’re not real people, so they shouldn’t answer. Their silence reminds me that I’m not losing my mind, and so I feel just a little bit better.

It isn’t too long before I fall asleep again, snugly embedded between my fake friends.

* * *

I wince once more as I completely withdraw the knife from my skin, and pull the final stitch shut with my teeth. I suppose by conventional wisdom, I really should have applied rubbing alcohol, but I already keep my blades clean as they can be. There’s no need for it. I’ll be fine.

Is there really any need for me to tend to my injuries at all? If I’m only a file on a computer, I should just be able to reload myself, thus instantly negating my wounds. But…

 _No,_ I decide. I shouldn’t touch the fabric of my own existence. I ought not to interfere with rules and conditions that control things I don’t understand. That didn’t end well when Monika did it, and she, I’m sure, certainly understood more than I did.

Nonetheless, I’m curious. I think a moment. Perhaps if I examined the files, I might find something useful which would indicate how I would safely modify things. How do I…

Oh. There it is. The developer console. I suppose that’s all it takes.

I open my character file, and see within it a link to a file labeled yuri-memories.txt

Alongside it, a series of numbers, next to various adjectives. It all makes my head spin, so I skim past all of it. But there doesn’t seem to be anything useful. That I can recognize.

Sighing, I close my character file. I was right. I can’t make any sense of any of that. Changing any of those numbers without fully grasping what they mean could be disastrous.

Scrolling further through the game files, I see several other pieces of data that appear to provide the basis for not only our characters, but for our environment, sounds, history… history? Right. Memories. History. Lost memories…

monika-chr-history.txt  
monika-chr-memories.txt  
natsuki-chr-history.txt  
natsuki-chr-memories.txt  
sayori-chr-memories.txt  
yuri-chr-memories.txt

Hm… Sayori and I don’t have a “history.”

I can only suppose it’s because we remember everything, whereas Monika and Natsuki’s memories were overwritten to serve the current situation? That would probably be it…

I think Sayori would know for sure, but asking her about it wouldn’t be very tactful of me.

Deciding my curiosity to be satisfied for now, I close the console and set about cleaning my knife.

* * *

“O-Okay, everyone…” Sayori starts to say. “Um… the festival’s on Monday… and…”

I roll my eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?! You’ve been acting really weird all week, Sayori. Are you gonna get to the point or not?”

“Natsuki!” Yuri hisses from behind me. “You’re not helping!”

“Shut up!” I turn and glare at Yuri, and she scurries backwards and away from me. So I look back at Sayori, expecting her to clean her act up.

“Um, Natsuki…” Sayori looks at me, looking all freaked out for some reason. “Natsuki, I didn’t mean to…”

“Want me to help?”

Monika puts a hand on Sayori’s shoulder, and she seems to tense up… a lot.

“U-Um… no!” Sayori shakes her head a whole bunch. “I’m fine, really! I don’t want to depend on you too much, Monika…”

“Nonsense!” Monika chuckles. “Remember, we’re supposed to talk about the cupcakes! And the poems! And then—”

“Then we split up teams…”

“Yes, exactly!” Smiling, Monika pats Sayori a few times on the head. “Now go on and walk everyone through it! You’ll be A-OK!”

Sayori breathes in and out. “Okay… okay… everyone! Now, the festival is… Monday, and we need to prepare the banner… and, uh, refreshments. Natsuki’ll make cupcakes! Monika’ll make posters—”

“And you’re helping me make posters, right?” Monika adds eagerly.

Sayori shivers a little bit, gulps, then goes on, “And of course, we’re performing poems, so you all need to have stuff to read… Yeah! So we have to keep in mind…”

At this point, I tune out. I already know all this stuff, and it’s not like I actually give a shit. And of course—

“Now, that leaves just you…” She looks at him. “Who do you want to help this weekend for the festival?”

Of course he’s not gonna pick me. Not like that matters.

“Alright, Yuri! You’ll be with him to make the banner…”

As expected. Yuri. The big girl. Big, mature, Yuri. Big, mature, toxic, bitchy, knifey, Yuri.

I’m the smallest and least important club member. No one gives any fucks about me. Nothing I say in this club matters. But it’s not like I already knew that. Not like I expected anything from anyone. Not like I give a shit what people think of me either. I don’t. I don’t give a single goddamn fuck what any one of these shitty little _cunts—_

“Natsuki?”

My thoughts float back to Earth when Sayori says my name. Wait. What. What was I thinking. The C Word.

No, that’s one of the few words I don’t, won’t use…

“Natsuki, are you alright with doing cupcakes by yourself?”

“Oh.” I nod my head, trying to appear indifferent. “Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t care.”

“All right!” Sayori says cheerily. “Well, uh, club time’s over, so, let’s go home and get ready! See you all after the weekend!”

Great, I guess the meeting’s over. Annoyed, I leave the room.

* * *

I can see Sayori visibly shaking as she speaks. It’s quite clear that something’s upset her. But I can’t imagine what that might be.

Of course, it’s not just today. Ever since I came into the club at the beginning of the week, she’s been visibly distressed. Today, though, she looks at her worst. And of course, I can’t ask her about it, because she thinks I’m the one who did it. Why she thinks I’m responsible, though, is beyond me.

I suppose there’s not much I can do but ask Natsuki or Yuri. One look at Natsuki tells me asking her is useless. She won’t know anything, and even if she did, she’d never tell me. But Yuri…

Sayori walks to the other end of the room and speaks quietly to Yuri. I consider eavesdropping, but decide it isn’t a good idea. If Sayori caught me, she’d be angry, and trust me even less.

So I sit a ways away, pretending to clean up, and wait for them to finish.

* * *

“I-I had a bad dream,” Sayori tells me, quietly. “Monika… she… she…”

I nod patiently. “She got rid of everyone?”

“I woke up… and I almost… de...le…”

“Go on.”

“I couldn’t do it…” Sayori leans onto my right shoulder, weeping quietly. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t…”

I flinch at the pressure of her head’s weight, but I don’t ask Sayori to move her head to the other side. Instead, I gently wrap her in a hug, eager to offer her all the support I can.

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “You made the right choice, Sayori. It’s okay… she won’t come back. Not like that.” I pause, and swallow. _“Never_ like that.”

“W-what if you change your mind?” Sayori wonders. “If you— or Natsuki, or—”

“No. That won’t happen. Everyone’s going to be okay.”

I know that’s a terribly cliched thing to say. Sayori’s probably heard me saying it at least four or five times by now. But what else is there for me _to_ say? There’s just not much else I can do for Sayori. Perhaps I could delete Monika myself, but then I’d have to live with the consequences of that…

Sayori lets me go, and gently eases herself out of my hug. “Thanks, Yuri… I’ll go home now.” She stands up and heads out the door.

“Yuri, can I talk to you for a minute?”

I freeze. “Monika?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the same old me, ahaha!”

I turn around and lift my head to meet her eyes. I quiver, half expecting her to see right through me, but her eyes are kind and unfocused.

“You have a tummyache or something?”

“Oh?” I look down to realize I was absentedmindedly covering my stomach, and nervously lower my arm away to my side. “No! I’m just… um… I like…”

“Ah, never mind that,” Monika says, shaking her head in gentle dismission. “Do you know what’s wrong with Sayori?”

I freeze, again.

Confrontation. I ought to have known it was coming. But I didn’t think of it, didn’t prepare. I’ve no idea what to say.

“She isn’t feeling well—”

“That’s not what I meant.”

It was too hopeful of me to think that would work. Monika’s much too intelligent to fall for that. She’s a different person from how she was, but even so, she’s still Monika, and I can’t lie to Monika.

Wait… a different person…

Deciding upon a new choice of words, I begin to speak again.

“Sayori was… hurt by a friend.” I hesitate before continuing, hoping Monika will accept this explanation. “A beloved friend who was very near and dear to her.”

Monika frowns, her eyes wide open in concern. “What did they do?”

“This friend… they… They used her as a means to satisfy their own desires… and… discarded her…” I decide to say it straight. “And that made her want to die.”

* * *

_…Die?_

“But…” I speak slowly, not quite believing what Yuri is telling me. “Sayori’s the light of the Literature Club! Why would she— How could she—”

“Sayori was pushed,” Yuri says, her voice trembling. “Pushed so far, she… she can’t trust anyone fully anymore. I-It took some doing to get her to trust me. And, well, you… you remind her too much of her friend who hurt her. That’s where her… episodes, come from. Sometimes she looks at you, and sees them instead.”

I fall silent. Sayori… so she was… that’s what’s been disturbing her? I can’t imagine what that must have been like, especially since she was already so depressed. And here I was thinking she was getting better! But, this person? Whoever they are, what they did was truly, utterly despicable. To take advantage of her like that for their own gain? Who would do that? To a girl like that? To Sayori? I think I’d like to go and—

 _No._ I blink, and clear my thoughts. It’s useless to think of who’s to blame. All I can do now, is try to…

“Can I help her?” I ask. “Talk to her, or anything? Get through to her… tell her it wasn’t me?”

Yuri shakes her head. “No. You can’t. Please don’t talk to her about this. She needs help, but not from you. I’m sorry, Monika.”

“Well, if that’s how it has to be… I understand.” I nod sadly. “Okay. I’ll leave her be.”

Yuri bows her head gently. “Thank you for understanding, Monika.” She takes her schoolbag, and leaves the clubroom.

I sit down, thinking for a moment. I can’t help Sayori, but… I still have to make posters with her this weekend.

 _Perhaps I shouldn’t go,_ I think. _If my presence on its own will upset her, then wouldn’t I be hurting her more just by being there?_

I pull out my phone and begin to type up a short text.

* * *

I look under the vending machine to see if any coins rolled under it. But of course there aren’t any.

“Damn vending machine…” I stand up and give it a good kick in the snout. _“FEED ME, YOU FUCKING PIECE OF JUNK!”_

It doesn’t feed me.

I growl at it like a kitten.

Nope. Still doesn’t do shit.

The vending machine closest to the clubroom was broken, and it took me ages trying to find another one. After checking pretty much every corner of the school and giving up, imagine my surprise to find it just sitting around at the entrance. And then only to find out that I didn’t have any goddamned money.

Since my dumbass dad had to go and get himself killed, now I don’t have any chance of getting lunch money from him. Even though he only gave me money maybe four or six times out of ten, it’s still a hell of a lot better than zero times.

“I’m hungry…” I whine, kneeling in front of it and looking down at the floor. “Whatever lazy god of vending machines is out there… feed me, please? Maybe? Just this once? I like food!”

Nothing happens.

Of course that wasn’t going to work. There aren’t any gods out there anywhere. And even if there are, they’re probably all a bunch of entitled, self-important jerks, so they’d never pay any attention to a helpless little girl like me. And maybe I’m entitled for wanting free food to come out of a vending machine. But can you really blame me?

I stand up and turn to the door to leave, but stop when my phone buzzes. I take it out and have a look.

It’s a group text sent from Monika to me and Sayori, with the subject line “Change of Plans.” I hold my finger over it, about to read it—

“Natsuki? Do you want me to buy some food?”

Food? YES! YES PLEASE! Overjoyed, I look away from my phone and spin around—

Oh. It’s Yuri.

“No.” I scowl at her.

“Are you sure?” Yuri takes a thousand yen bill out of her pocket and walks further towards me. “I… have this. If you want it…?”

I wish I didn’t need it. But I do. Even if it has to be from _Yuri._ So I snatch it out of her hands.

“Don’t think I’m taking your money cause I appreciate your help or anything,” I say as I feed the bill to the machine and press a button.

“Oh, no, not at all,” Yuri says, keeping her voice down. “I know you… don’t… appreciate anything, Natsuki… but that’s really alright with me.”

“Uh-huh.” I don’t really give a crap what she’s saying. I’m just hungry. The machine feeds me an orange soda and 900 yen in coins in return for Yuri’s thousand yen, which I swoop up into my palm and cram into my tiny pockets. The coins, not the soda. The soda won’t fit in my pockets, so I start drinking it.

Yuri pulls her sleeves up a little, and I roll my eyes. “It’s not like I don’t already know, y’know. About your _hobby._ ”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

Again, I roll my eyes. She needs to stop pretending this isn’t a problem. Stop deflecting me. Stop trying to—

“Um, since you’re here… I want to apologize to you, Natsuki.”

“Wow, that’s rich.” I give Yuri a doubtful stare, and take another sip of my soda. “You think one little apology’s gonna fix everything?”

“Um… no, it’s just that… I thought maybe we might be able to tolerate each other more.” Yuri holds out her hand. “Listen, Natsuki… I’m really sorry you had to see me like you did. With… my… me… being…”

“Yeah, well, I saw it, and none of your sentimental crap’s gonna change what I saw, Yuri.” I swallow the last of the orange soda, and crunch the bottle tightly in my fist. “So don’t go pretending it’s none of my fucking business now, you got it?! It became my business the second I opened that door. And unless you change it, we’re not talking.”

Yuri sighs, exasperated. “Natsuki, you can’t force me to—”

“Yes. Exactly, Yuri.” I throw the empty bottle at her feet. “I can’t force you to stop slicing yourself open. And you can’t force me to be your friend. So fuck off.”

Yuri looks down at the bottle. “You really ought to not litter, Nats—”

“Fuck. Off.”

Shoving my hands into my pockets along with Yuri’s money, I push past her to go home. On the way out, I take out my phone to read Monika’s text.

“Huh,” I murmur. “Looks like I’m baking cupcakes with Sayori.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written thousands upon thousands of words over the past couple weeks for a bunch of things that are not this and gotten NONE of it done.
> 
> I thought I'd have a new chapter of something else out before this got done, but it didn't, and I ended up writing the bulk of this on a plane. Yayyy plane rides!
> 
> Part of this chapter was written to clear up a question some of you may have had after the last chapter. Why did Natsuki remember Monika being the president before? Well, that was because that chapter was primarily from the point of view of a past iteration of Natsuki before her character file changed. And yes, this is true, because I am God and I say so, sucker.
> 
> (actually, er, Dan is god, but uhuhhh-- THIS AIN'T HIS FANFIC so whatever! BAKA!)


End file.
